Monday, 1 March 2010

At lunch with Louise, my phone rang. It was Dunk. He sounded angry, flustered, in a way that I totally wasn’t used to. Something happened at last week’s party – the party that I’d been at with Kate – and it had really gotten under Dunk’s skin. Dunk’s generally a very cool customer, so this was serious.

“It’s Graham. At that party last week, he tried to force himself onto Kate – tried to kiss her – but Kate wasn’t interested, so she said no. And then Graham got aggressive, and started calling her names. Shouting at her and calling her a slag.”

My jaw hit the floor. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t get my head around the situation. I was shocked. And, from within, I could feel myself becoming enraged. I can’t remember what I mumbled to Dunk, only that he carried on…
“And then I got a message from Graham – a Facebook message – that night: at like two in the morning. And, because I get a beep on my iPhone, I woke up, and it’s from Graham, and it says that he wants me to ring him, and not to ring Kate first…”

Dunk went on to explain that he’d spoken to Kate there and then, and found out what had happened, and that Graham had tried to contact him since then, that Graham was trying to drive a wedge between Kate and Dunk. Graham was spooning lies to Dunk to engineer a break up with Kate so that Graham could swoop in and pick up the pieces.

I was furious. I am furious. The spite of the man! I rang Kate, who was upset too. My fury became vehement rage. And it worsened – over the weekend, when I’d been away with Whitehouse, Graham invited me to join him in Chorlton for the rugby. Now, I realised, he was inviting me to test out how widely Kate had spread the news about his disgraceful behaviour at the party. He’d used me. (Dunk thinks Graham made friends with me to try to get to Kate, that he used me in a different way – I’m 50-50 about that, my judgement is clouded a bit by my rage at the mo).